His Rejection, His Loss
Zion said, smiling nervously.
"Who's that?" I asked curiously, I've never known Zion to be one who minced words.
A young lady of about eighteen years of age putting on a pair of brown jeans and a pink crop top walked up to us with a nervous smile on her lips.
"Greetings Luna Fiona," she said softly and bowed.
"Luna Fiona, this is Victoria," Zion introduced her, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "She's my mate."
"Nice to meet you, Vick," I said, feeling so much relief that the air had been cleared. "Hope it's fine if I call you Vick?"